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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28077828">Dinner &amp; Diatribes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/overcastskeleton/pseuds/overcastskeleton'>overcastskeleton</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>An excuse for me to do an in-depth study of my favorite fuckboy, F/M, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Y'all fuck on his dad's throne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:47:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,517</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28077828</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/overcastskeleton/pseuds/overcastskeleton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You and Oberyn ditch a party to have a quickie in the throne room</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Oberyn Martell x Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>118</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dinner &amp; Diatribes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was a drabble that accidentally got out of hand</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The party is in full swing, the musicians play a lively tune, and all around you guests talk and dance, drunk on wine and the heat of the summer night.</p><p>You sit in one corner of the outdoor plaza with the rest of the women, listening to the gossip and idle chatter-- who was rumored to be seeing who, which highborned was seen slipping out of a brothel late at night, and the latest batch of Sands. </p><p>None of it, not even the most salacious news, could hold your attention for long. Your thoughts belong to the youngest of the House Martell, Prince Oberyn.</p><p>His highness lounges on the couch, surrounded by a crowd of spectators. They hang on his every word, laugh at all of his jokes as he concocts a tale of half-truths about the latest voyage to the outer reaches of Westeros. His words are sugar-sweet, and they flock towards them like flies to honey. </p><p>Of course, you can’t blame them. Oberyn has this magnetic pull to him. Maybe it is his easy going nature, the way he is never long without a smile. Or how he walks through the world with the easy grace of those anointed with power and blessed with a golden spoon; his shoulders have never felt the weight of burden, and so his gait is light, his head held high. </p><p>Even you are not immune to his charm, he draws you like a moth to a flame. But you tug him to you in kind, and he is never in Dorne long before he has wormed his way into your bed. You are a siren that has him bewitched. Two binary stars trapped in each other’s gravitational fields, destined to orbit each other forever.</p><p>Oberyn catches your eye from across the room and holds your gaze. His deep eyes swallow you whole, burn straight through you like twin flames, and you’re falling into him once again. Helpless. </p><p>He grabs a large plum from a passing gold platter, and winks at you as his teeth break the flesh. The juice of it dribbles down his chin, and he catches it with his finger. The pad of it disappears between his stained lips, and his tongue laps at the sweetness languidly, eyes still fixed on yours. </p><p>You clear your throat, warmth rising in your cheeks and look away as a hot spike of arousal works its way through your body. </p><p>“If  you keep staring at him like that, his other suitors will get jealous,” Elia mumbles, looking at you out of the corner of his eyes. </p><p>You snatch a jewel-encrusted goblet off a tray from the center of the table and gulp down a mouthful of sweet wine. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” </p><p>Elia hums, a knowing smile on her face. She twists her ring, a gift from the Targaryen prince, around her finger. “It’s too bad my brother isn’t one to stay still for long, you would be good for him.” She bumps her shoulder into yours. “Speaking of the traveller…” </p><p>“Sister.” Oberyn appears in front of your couch.</p><p>The other women fall silent, eyes wide as they take in the rakish prince. And there’s a lot to take in. He towers above you, broad shoulders swathed in gold fabric that glitters subtly in the flames that light the plaza. A golden circlet balances slightly askew atop his hair which curls lightly at the ends from the humidity. The strands fall into his dark eyes, which seem to sparkle with secrets only he knows. </p><p>“Brother,” Elia responds with an edge of annoyance in her tone. “What brings you here?” </p><p>“I thought I would come over and see how your evening fares.” </p><p>“Have you bored your harem to death with your silly stories yet?”</p><p>Oberyn smirks, picking at some lint on his sleeve. “The opposite actually, I’m an expert <em> orator </em>. They cling to my every word.” </p><p>“Only because they hope you’ll bed them later,” Elia mumbles into her wine, and the other women gasp. </p><p>You snort at her dig, you cannot help it. Your hand flies up to your mouth to contain the sound, but it’s too late. </p><p>Oberyn’s eyes slide over to you, a small smirk on his face. “Well, sister, I hope Rhaegar does not listen solely in the hopes of bedding you. He’d miss your wonderful humor.”</p><p>“You seem to forget your place, <em> little brother </em>.” Elia glares at him, a venomous look that would have made any lesser man wilt, but not the prince. He only laughs. It’s a loud and contagious sound, and soon the whole group joins in, and even Elia cracks a smile. </p><p>“I’m glad to see you enjoying yourself, sister.” Oberyn tips her a curt nod. “<em> My lady </em>,” he whispers, making a show of kissing the back of your hand. “I hope our paths will cross again soon.” Another coy smile, and Oberyn walks away, easily melding into the mass of swirling bodies. </p><p>The women stare at you, you feel the collective weight of their gazes, green with envy. You stare at the floor, your skin burns and blood pounding in your ears. Not even the cool ocean breeze can snuff out the flame that burns deep inside you. You’ve got to get out of here. </p><p>You swallow down the rest of your wine in a most unladylike fashion. “Your highness.” You curtsy as a means of farewell and all but flee the room.  </p><p>The last thing you see is Elia’s teasing grin. </p><p>----</p><p>You find no hint of the prince in the garden, nor in the corridor by the kitchen, or by the fountain in the courtyard-- all frequent spots for your previous late night rendezvous. </p><p>You’re about to give up and return to the party when, by chance, you check the throne room. The hall is empty, and dimly lit by a few lanterns that cast large shadows over the wall. You shiver in your gown, the pink tulle, while absolutely stunning against your dark skin,  does nothing to protect you from the cold of the great hall. </p><p>“Oberyn,” you say softly, but even that seems to echo loudly. You cringe, about to leave, when his voice calls out to you. </p><p>“<em> Lover </em>.” </p><p>He’s sitting on his father’s throne, legs spread and one thrown over the arm of it. A perfect study of nonchalance as he lifts a goblet to his lips. “Come, sit.” Oberyn adjusts himself on the throne and pats his thighs. </p><p>“Are you mad? If they catch you on there, you will be merely chastised. But if I’m found sitting on the king’s throne, I will be banished or <em> worse </em>.” </p><p>Oberyn only shrugs. “My father is too busy kissing the Hand’s ass to notice us missing. Where is your sense of adventure?” </p><p>“This is not adventure, this is testing the gods, old and new.” You cross your arms over your chest. </p><p>He leans back against the metal throne, his teeth glinting in the warm light of the torches. “Then it is a good thing I do not believe in gods or fates, only the intentions of men. And now, my intention is to take you right here, on my father’s throne.” </p><p>“That is a very dangerous thing.” You stand rooted to the spot. </p><p>“I am a very dangerous man.” Oberyn shrugs. “I promise you, we will not be found. We are the only ones in the palace other than the servants, and they are all trained to look away,” he assures you. “Now, come here, I’ve been waiting all night to kiss you.” </p><p>Once again, and always against your better judgement, you find yourself helplessly pulled to him, unable to say no. Not that you would want to, not when he’s looking at you with warmth and admiration in his gaze. You ascend the steps to the throne slowly, taking Oberyn’s outstretched hand. </p><p>He pulls you into his lap, lips capturing yours in a kiss that makes your heart skip a beat, and your toes curl against your sandals. Hints of berries and wine burst tangy in your mouth as his tongue parts your lips. You open your mouth to his explorations, his deep kisses filling your mind in a haze. He smells of citrus and spice, the mix is intoxicating, and you lean into him, tangling your fingers into his hair, all pretense of anxiety gone. </p><p>Oberyn sets the glass on the stand beside the throne. Hands now free, he uses the opportunity to let them roam over your body. His fingers gather the wispy skirts of your gown, pushing them up your thighs. He explores your body, squeezing and pinching the supple skin. You gasp hotly into his mouth as his thumb swipes over your swollen clit. </p><p>Oberyn hums, spreading the evidence of your arousal over your cunt. “You’re always so ready for me. Tell me, what about me arouses you so?” He mumbles against your jaw. </p><p>You moan, legs spreading as his fingers tease your entrance. “Everything about you, my prince.” You tug on the dark strands of his hair, and he groans. </p><p>“They all think you are so innocent,” he whispers, the hairs on his jaw scraping against your neck. “What would they say if they saw how easily you spread your legs for me?” Oberyn slips a finger into you. “Oh, you put on a good show, lover, but I know the real you.” He crooks his finger forward, and you fall into his chest. </p><p>“And who would that be?” You grind down onto his finger wantonly.</p><p>Oberyn tugs the neckline of your gown down and mouths at your breast. “A woman who knows what she wants.” </p><p>His lips tease your nipple and your head falls back. Your next words are choked. “Tell me, Oberyn, what is it that I want?” </p><p>He adds a second finger to the first, pulling an embarrassingly sharp cry from your throat. “To be fucked by your prince on his father’s throne.” He works his fingers into you, slowly stretching your walls.</p><p>Oberyn’s right, of course he is. You want him, <em> need him </em> something desperate. Desire courses through your blood like fire, heightened by every press of his thumb to your clit, and every brush of his lips over your heated skin. </p><p>He twists his fingers within you, and nips at the swell of your breast. “Is that what you want, lover? For me to take you right now? Where anyone could see how I pleasure you, hear the way you scream for me?” </p><p>You nod, chest heaving at the filth of it all. You spread out on his lap in such a dangerously public place, where anyone could walk in. But you want him so badly it hurts. Want him to break you apart with his hands, his lips, his cock. Want him to tear you asunder, shatter your world and leave nothing in his wake. </p><p>“Take all of me,” you rasp into the dark stillness of the room. </p><p>You feel his smile against your throat. “With pleasure.” </p><p>What follows is a series of frenzied movements. Hurried, sloppy kisses pressed to your lips and jaw as you pull Oberyn’s cock from his silk trousers. Low groans from the both of you as you rock your weeping cunt onto his length, coating him in your slick, and then finally the sweet burn as Oberyn sheathes himself inside of you.</p><p>His head falls against your chest, breathing deep and ragged as the warmth of your walls engulf him. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you tightly against him as he inhales you. The sweat that clings to your skin, the enticing scent of the jasmine lotion you wear, all go straight to his head. </p><p>You cling to him, molding to his warm body. The soft fabric of his tunic scrapes your exposed nipples with each of your shared breaths. You long for the slide of his skin on yours, long for positions and time to explore the new scars he surely proudly wears. Time and space you don’t have right now, for this moment is all about desire too intense to ignore any longer. </p><p>The first roll of your hips steals the breath from your lungs, and Oberyn pants in turn. His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass, urging you forward faster and faster. Oberyn’s lips glide over your body, leaving fire in their wake as he greedily tastes all parts of you that he can reach. He tucks quiet groans and choked whispers of your name into the skin like little secrets. Intimate little things only he and you share in moments like these. </p><p>You cry out, tilting your head back and baring yourself to him, letting him reach deep inside of you until he finds what he is searching for. None of your lovers even hold a candle to the things Oberyn makes you feel. The emotion and longing that twines in your chest with every push and pull of his cock along your walls. The ache of the days that pass between his visits. He has you under his spell, a slave to him in every way.    </p><p>His hips lift into yours, the two of you moving in a seamless rhythm. His cock brushes that bright spot deep inside of you, the one that makes you see stars, and you know it’ll all be over soon. You pull his lips back to yours, panting obscenities and pleading words into his lips, and he drinks the sweet nectar of your words down like a man starved.</p><p>Oberyn’s thumb comes to rub at the hollow where your bodies connect, and you shudder, falling apart with a small cry of his name. You clench around him, trapping him in your heat as you ride out the slow waves of your high. It’s not long before he meets you in your pleasure, pressing a sloppy kiss to the underside of your jaw as he comes with a strangled grunt of your name.</p><p>You stay like that for a while, still joined and foreheads pressed tightly together, breathing each other’s air, and basking in the quiet atmosphere. His come leaks out of you, staining the fabric of his trousers, and you wonder how he’ll explain that away when he finally faces his father. Wonder if he’ll even have to, or if the king will just shake his head and ignore it. </p><p>It’s then that the weight of what you’ve done hits you full force. You bury your face into his shoulder, a laugh bubbling up in the back of your throat. </p><p>“What is it, lover?” Oberyn asks, pressing a kiss to your temple. </p><p>“We’ve just defiled the king’s throne.” You shake your head. It’s not funny, or at least such an act of treason shouldn’t be, but you can’t stop the nervous laughter that shakes your shoulder. </p><p>Oberyn squeezes your hips. “It’s nothing compared to what I’ve already done in his bed.”     </p><p>You look at him, eyebrows raised. “You can’t be serious.”</p><p>“It’s sturdy.” He nods, eyes dancing, dark and dangerous. “I will have to show you sometime.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Follow my tumblr for more: generaldamneron</p></blockquote></div></div>
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